Everything is Somewhere Podcast

The late and mostly unlamented anarchist philosopher, Peter Lamborn Wilson, under the pseudonym Hakim Bey, wrote extensively about the pirate utopias of the 18th century and from them derived the concept that he labeled temporary autonomous zones. If you were at the Solstice party at my place a few summers back, you were in a rather excellent temporary autonomous zone or TAZ. The party was temporary in that it had a beginning and an end. If you showed up on the wrong night, you weren't in a TAZ, you were SOL. It was a zone, taking place entirely within the boundaries of my particular parcel. And most importantly, it was autonomous. Within the temporal and spatial boundaries of the party, you hopefully experienced a suspension of certain laws, a relaxing of legal, cultural, and even physical restraints. Perhaps you felt free to drink or smoke more than you usually do, or to give free rein to a flirtatious alter ego, or to talk and sing in an unusually loud voice. Perhaps, like me, you became convinced that you could dance, despite past experience to the contrary.

In this episode Angus talks with Petersen Products' Phil Lundman and design engineer Henri Kinson about the strange, high‑stakes world of inflatable plugs and custom mechanical solutions for pipelines and critical infrastructure. We start with the company's roots in a Danish immigrant's drain‑cleaning tool and follow its evolution into a design‑build shop that routinely solves one‑off problems for industrial and municipal clients around the world. Along the way, Phil and Henri walk through a dramatic underwater project at the Hanahan Water Treatment Plant, where divers installed a folding, seven‑foot bulkhead 50 feet below the surface to protect millions of dollars in assets. We also get into NASA rocket‑fuselage stress tests, offshore energy platforms, and what it takes — in software, fabrication capability, and rigorous testing — to ship devices that simply cannot fail under pressure.

689 years ago, in April, the Italian poet now known as Petrarch climbed Mont Ventoux in Provence. By the standards of recreational hikers in my home state, Colorado, it wasn't much of a climb—Mont Ventoux is just a little over 6,200 feet, and Petrarch was done with his climb well before dinner. But by the standards of his day, the climb was apparently sensational. In a widely-published letter he wrote about the ascent, Petrarch claimed to be the first person since antiquity to climb a mountain solely for the view—that is, the first person to climb a mountain not for work, or exploration, or conquering, or to glorify God, or for any practical reason, but simply… because he wanted to. This self-absorbed focus on his own wellbeing was a revolutionary act in an age still ruled by the Church, so revolutionary that many scholars today point to Petrarch's springtime hike as the beginning of what we now call the Renaissance.